


Sleep Now

by StormStuff



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), insufferably sappy at the end there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormStuff/pseuds/StormStuff
Summary: “Are you ever planning on coming to bed?” Martin asked, “After you snuck out on me?”“I needed light to read,” Jon said, which was a blatant lie, first of all. “I didn’t want to wake you.” sweet, but not the reason. Not the whole reason, at least.“And?” because there was always an ‘and’ in these situations.“And…” Jon looked like he was planning on lying, then gave up. Good, he was a horrible liar. “I was going to fall asleep in bed.”“You need to sleep, too.” Martin said. He shifted and threw the blanket and his arm over Jon’s shoulders, too. “You haven’t slept in-”“Thirty-seven hours, eighteen minutes.”“I was going to say over a day.” Martin gave him a look and Jon at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. “But you’ve proven my point very well.”Or: Someone is refusing to sleep, and a discussion on the future.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 140





	Sleep Now

Martin woke up in the middle of the night to a cold bed. Once upon a time, this was normal. Then it became panic-inducing, and then it looped around to being not normal, but infuriatingly common.

He slipped out of bed, already wearing two pairs of socks and slung a blanket over his shoulders like a cape against the cold. Sure enough, Jon was sitting in the main room and reading by the light of embers in the fireplace.

“That’s where you’ve run off to.” he muttered and sat next to Jon, leaning against him, though not enough to topple him over.

“Ah, yes.” Jon said, “Good morning?” he glanced at the window.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Oh.” Jon frowned. “Go back to sleep.”

Hypocrite.

“Are you ever planning on coming to bed?” Martin asked, “After you snuck out on me?”

“I needed light to read,” Jon said, which was a blatant lie, first of all. “I didn’t want to wake you.” sweet, but not the reason. Not the whole reason, at least.

“And?” because there was always an ‘and’ in these situations.

“And…” Jon looked like he was planning on lying, then gave up. Good, he was a horrible liar. “I was going to fall asleep in bed.”

“You need to sleep, too.” Martin said. He shifted and threw the blanket and his arm over Jon’s shoulders, too. “You haven’t slept in-”

“Thirty-seven hours, eighteen minutes.”

“I was going to say over a day.” Martin gave him a  _ look _ and Jon at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. “But you’ve proven my point very well.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Jon waved one hand apologetically. Martin was very well-versed in the language of ambiguous hand waves.

“Come to bed,” Martin squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll keep you safe from the nightmares.”

“No, that’s, it’s not,” Jon stuttered, taking a deep breath to get himself under control again. “They’re not  _ my _ nightmares.”

“They’re dreams that cause you distress.” Martin said, rubbing his back, “I call those nightmares.”

“That’s not the-”

“Nightmares are nightmares.” Martin said again, with a firmer squeeze of the shoulders. “You don’t get to argue with me on this. Especially at two AM in the morning.”

“You’re right,” Jon said, “Let’s talk about this in the morning, go back to bed.”

“After you’ve slept.”

“No, I can’t.” Jon stuttered and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “You know why I can’t.”

“So what’s your plan then, hm?” Martin let him hide in his hands. “Stay awake, go crazy, and then die from sleep deprivation?”

“I would only be so lucky.” Jon said. He waited a beat, then what he said seemed to hit him. “Wait, no, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t think before you spoke, I know.” Martin pressed his face into Jon’s shoulder. “I really hate that that’s your knee-jerk reaction, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m finally happy,” Martin said, “You’re not allowed to ruin that for me, okay? I hate watching you like this, you look so ill. Please, just sleep. Don’t make me watch you wither away.” he was playing the guilt card a little bit, he knew, but it was true. And the sun was down, which meant emotions were fair game.

“Alright,” Jon’s hand found his and squeezed. “Alright. Bed it is, then.”

“Good.” Martin took the book out of his hands and closed it around a bookmark (a receipt from the second-hand store where they got it), then threw it across the room to the sofa. It was an old paperback, so he had no issues with throwing it around, and he was always terrified that the cabin would burn down if he left it near the fireplace.

He kept his hands on Jon, like he was planning on making a run for it in the ten feet it took to get to the bed. He fussed with the blankets, making sure that Jon had enough. Martin was, apparently, a blanket stealer, and Jon had poor circulation and was eternally cold.

“This is nice,” Jon said a few minutes later. Martin would have thought he was asleep were it not for his tight fists, digging his nails into his palms. “Warm.”

“It is,” Martin took his hand and smoothed it out. Jon’s nails were painted blue, Martin’s were yellow, they’d found some nail varnish at the store and decided why not. Jon’s were already chipping from gnawing at them. “So let’s be happy?”

“Sorry,” Jon cracked his eyes open, “But, I just can’t trust it. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“So do I,” Martin admitted. He was shocked when Jon had the audacity to look shocked, “What, you think I’d believe that everything’s just hunky-dory now?”

“You seem to be taking it so well,” Jon said, “The comfort.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s an effect of the Lonely, or maybe I’m just reacting to the past few years differently from you,” Martin played with his hand, it was easier than looking into his sincere eyes. “But, the way I see it, whatever bad thing is coming will get here no matter what I do. So, I'm actively making the choice not to stress myself out about it.”

“But what if there is something we can do?” Jon asked.

“Is that something working yourself to exhaustion?” Martin asked, “Has that ever worked for you?”

“No,” Jon admitted.

“I just, the only thing I focus on is,” Martin took a moment to organize his thoughts. “No matter what happens, what’s coming down the pike for us, we’re in it together. We’ll face it together.”

Jon’s hand flipped around, grabbed onto Martin’s tight, “Yes,” he said, sounding awed. “We will, won’t we.”

“But that means you can’t do more of this,” Martin said, not making any gesture to indicate what ‘this’ was, “No more running off in the middle of the night, or trying to deal with stuff on your own. Together means together.”

Jon smiled when Martin looked u[p at his face again. “Alright,” he agreed, “Together means together.”

“Now, I’d say we’ve wasted quite enough time,” Martin said, “Please, just go to sleep.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“And the whole time in between.”

Martin waited until Jon was asleep, well and truly asleep, before he allowed himself to sleep as well. 

They were lucky they didn’t have anything they needed to do in the morning, and could just lounge in warm comfort until the late afternoon, catching up on lost sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> why do all my scottish safehouse fics focus so much on sleeping? i just want them to have a nap ig
> 
> here it is: horrendously self-indulgent fic time


End file.
